


Wake Up

by FalovesPa



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M, Thorin Oakenshield's company - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalovesPa/pseuds/FalovesPa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a shifty traveler tagging along with Thorin Oakenshield's Company accidentally rolls from her sleeping spot to his at camp, she reveals a secret desire in her sleep. Told from Thorin's P.O.V. (point of view)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> From imaginexhobbit: Imagine traveling with the company and accidentally rolling off your bedroll and snuggling up to Thorin

I do not recall who picked this location for camp tonight but make no mistake, he will not be assigned this duty again.

There are rocks – no, pebbles, pesky, small, jagged pebbles – everywhere on this terrain.

And we are on an incline.

"It’s just a small hill, Thorin. Quiet down and settle down," Gandalf told me.

I am accustomed to the most uncomfortable sleeping conditions imaginable; that was my life, our lives, soon after Smaug’s attack. But I at least expect fairly level ground where I lay my head, and not a thousand bothersome stones sticking to my neck.

I look around at my sleeping company, including the one who I believe can slumber through anything. Had the plummet to the goblins’ lair not nearly broken all of our bones, she might still be dreaming in the cave. 

I must correct myself; she is not a member of my company. She’s only with us for a brief time, traveling amongst us until, as she put it, “the heat is off.”

That’s code for: she took something that wasn’t rightfully hers and some angry people are after her.

It’s been my experience that those who find themselves in such predicaments usually pay handsomely to disappear.

Oh yes, her pockets are much lighter than when she first joined us. Thanks to her contributions, Kili was able to get a new quiver, Fili got his boots repaired, and we’ve eaten one or two decent meals.

I’ve seen her snarling a few times when Gloin collects her share but she always hands it over, as long as we keep her under cover. 

She didn’t even give us her real name.

“Just call me, uh..”

"Call you ‘Uh’?" I asked, straight-faced.

"Gin," she said quickly, looking over each shoulder. "Like the drink." 

Whatever her name is, whatever her game is, once we’re through Mirkwood, she said she will leave us.

Wait, what is that, that rustling sound? Something’s moving on the grass, but I don’t see -

_Swisssissst. Foomf._

What the!

It’s Gin, under my right arm.

She’s still asleep.

I look up. Her bedroll is still where she was, curled at the edges, askew. Some of her belongings and a few of her coins are scattered about.

Did she just tumble down the hill?

I wiggle and bounce my arm a bit, hoping this will wake her. Nothing. I blow out a heavy, tobacco-rich breath on her face. Perhaps that will rouse her. Instead, she tucks her head in closer to my side and snores.

And smiles.

“Gin! Wake. Up!” I scrape the back of my throat, whispering so hard.

She smacks her lips a few times, the kind of thing you do after you’ve savored a particularly excellent beverage.

A little louder, but still a rough whisper: “GIN!”

I don’t want to wake the others, but I need her to roll herself back up the hill.

Her eyes flutter open but she looks like she’s not completely awake. Her smile gets bigger, and she says, “Hi, Schmoopie,” then puts one hand atop the other and rests her cheek on them, shutting her eyes again.

 _Schmoopie?_ What is a 'schmoopie'?

She’s wedged herself so tightly against my right side that I can barely move.

I do not know what I’m waiting for. If this were anyone else I’d shove first, ask questions never. I’m getting increasingly agitated with myself for my inaction. Am I not a King, after all?

I will call her name louder and perhaps pat her cheek, on the count of three.

One, two…

She raises her head slightly, lifts her top hand, and places it behind my ear. She puts her head back down, and laces her fingers in my hair, then reaches my scalp, and begins to massage there.

Mahal, HOW! How does she know that spot?

She adds and subtracts pressure to my head, in rhythm with her breathing, whistling on my face through gently puckered lips. She smells like the delicious lemon pie she treated us to at the tavern. I feel hunger pangs returning. I could eat her.

The sensations pulsing through my head from her massage are more intoxicating than spirits. I make the assumption that I, or at least my hair, must resemble whoever this ridiculously-named person is, presumably her lover.

Then she murmurs in her sleep, “I want to stay with your company.”

Now I cannot think, much less act.

The massage goes on for several blissful minutes as I weakly repeat, “Gin, move. Wake. Gin.” 

And then when she spreads her fingers wider, driving long circular strokes against my skin, and drapes her right leg over mine, I’m just forming her name with no sound, not telling her to move.

I will have to figure out how to get rid of her without waking everyone and causing a scene.

Later, later later.

Quiet down, settle down.

I press my head deeper into the rolled up blanket I’m using for a pillow, barely holding back a moan as her soft fingertips continue grinding against my head, and settling into the pebbles, which are suddenly hitting all the right spots.


	2. Don't Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're just using this group of Dwarves, a Hobbit and a wizard to fade away until you get some ticked-off people off your tail. But the leader has invaded your dreams...or so you think.

There are two things you’re remarkably good at: procuring valuable objects that don’t belong to you, and snoozing.

Only one has resulted in a hefty bounty on your head.

Good thing you literally ran into these Dwarves, Hobbit and wizard, tramping along from what appeared to be Imladris, if you were correct.

In a hurry, you offered sketchy details about why you needed to tag along with them, followed by showing them your filled money purse. No one had a problem with you as long as paid for your ride and got lost after Mirkwood, as you’d promised. 

Pretending to be Gandalf’s human apprentice was his idea. You stayed by his side most of the time to avoid looking too tall among the shorter folks, and thus, standing out. Genius.

The only thing you weren’t particularly great at was keeping up with lies. That sort of skill comes in handy in your line of work but you never could get the hang of it. When Dori ordered rum at the tavern, you nearly answered "yes?" _Gin!_ you have to remind yourself. _For these purposes, my name is Gin._

Oh, but you know Thorin’s name, all right, backwards and forwards. You need to forget it, though. Kili quite delicately told you one morning that he’d heard you whispering some "pretty steamy” things about his uncle in your sleep.

Mortified, you’d made up a stupid, silly and fluffy nickname for him, just in case your subconscious decided to betray you again: Schmoopie.

On this night, you peek at him resting down the hill, finishing the last of his pipe, the only one up besides you. The smell wafts uphill, dances under your nose, sings a strange, seductive lullaby.

You’re out.

You’re falling, in circles, blades of grass tickling your face. It feels good. Freeing.

When you abruptly stop, you’re against a fire. A hard, muscular fire wearing a pelt. Tobacco is close, strong. 

Don’t wake up, you tell yourself. Don’t you dare wake up.

You greet the dream and smile. He says your made-up name, and his velvet voice pulls you deeper into the sleep.

You want to touch. Your hand wants to touch. So it reaches out and searches through his silky, voluminous locks, then stops against him.

Push, fingers. Rub. Swirl. Make him feel good.

“Gin.” He says it so much you begin to believe it is your name.

Your leg wants to touch, too. So it climbs over his and lodges there.

_I want to stay, let me stay. I want to stay._

Your fingers keep moving. You keep snuggling.

_Don’t wake up, Gin. Don’t wake up._


End file.
